


My Compliments to You

by EnviroHamada



Category: Troy (2004)
Genre: M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23390764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnviroHamada/pseuds/EnviroHamada
Summary: Hector owes Paris a compliment.
Relationships: Hector/Paris (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	My Compliments to You

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I am 16 years late to this fandom, but beautiful princes are on my mind, so what can I say? I appreciate anyone who reads. That means you must be a latecomer as well, so hello there! How are you? Either that or you've stuck with the Banabloom madness for a long time. Kudos to you.

"I am waiting."

If not for the Queen's adept ability at reading Hector's face, it would have easily looked as if the Prince had not heard the soft entreaty of the younger Prince Paris. But his sigh was not slight enough, and the barely-there twinkle in Hector's eye was too amused, so when Prince Hector continued speaking with a mission to ignore the luring voice which came from behind, Hecuba smiled, waved off her eldest son, and requested that he finish his story for her tomorrow. Then she slipped away to let the brothers do their quarreling.

Hector exhaled heavily, with every intent to appear annoyed, as he turned around to face Paris.

"You have kept me waiting, Brother," Paris said, faux-innocent. Gods, if Hector was not swept away by the obnoxiously beautiful look on his brother's falsely-innocent face.

"Have I?" Hector asked, trying to mask his adoration with ignorant flirtation instead.

Of course, Paris need not know he was flirting. As he had never made it a point to converse with his older brother at large events (for Paris was always hidden somewhere with a woman), had never seen his brother in war either (for Paris was not yet ready), he had grown accustomed to this flirtatious way that Hector spoke to him, and indeed assumed it was how he spoke to most everyone.

Hector knew this about him, and therefore enjoyed the subtle way he was able to tease his brother, _innocently_ of course.

"You have," Paris stated. "And I am upset about the fact."

_The whiny child he is_ , Hector thought. "And what on Earth could he be waiting for?" he said aloud. "Ah… yes, I remember now. I owe you a compliment."

"That's right. I have been waiting all day to hear it, Brother, so pray make it worthy."

Hector felt his throat begin to go dry, before he cleared it and started to stroll around Paris nonchalantly, arms crossed, looking him up and down--inspecting.

"Well, Paris," now again Hector was looking his brother in the eye. All was quiet in the chamber. Paris was smiling expectantly.

"The dirt under your toenail is less today than yesterday. I simply am astonished at the work you did on it this morning to make it so. My feet envy yours, younger brother." Satisfied with his jest, Hector began to walk away. He had almost made it to the door, when a quiet voice called out to him.

"Hector..."

Upon gazing once again at Paris's face, he saw that his smile stayed, but it was less than before. There was no mischievous tint left in Paris's eye. In fact, he looked somewhat pained, and his smile only earnest. Hector could not help but feel guilty for his remark. That is until Paris continued to speak: "Hector, this morning you… were going to say something different, were you not?"

"I was going to say _nothing_ , Paris." But the younger prince was now walking toward him. When he reached Hector, Paris placed his right hand on Hector's cheek, and his fingers gently caressed the soft skin there, not yet scarred by any battle. Hector's breath hitched a little, but he soon composed himself, and looked Paris in the eye.

Paris was far from composed. His whole body was radiating heat, he seemed to be glowing against the sunlit window behind him, and he began to recollect what had happened out loud, as if he only wanted to prove to Hector that he really was going to say something else this morning. He did not, however, need to prove anything. Hector was well aware of his own shortcomings. His weaknesses. The fact that in front of his brother he was hardly a man, for he could barely contain his love, and the longer he held that secret, the harder it was to keep it from Paris.

As Paris continued to stroke Hector's cheek, in desperation he whispered, "No, brother, remember? We were sitting by the temple, the water and sky were the bluest I had ever seen them, the wind was singing, I was saying your name, because you were transfixed by the light in the world, it seemed. By the beauty that existed in the air. I said this to you, and you denied it. But still you were smiling, as I have not seen you smile in a long time, Hector. I love when you smile."

A tear ran down Hector's cheek, and collided with the soft fingers that were placed there. "And I saw that you were crying, just as you are crying now. Why did you cry, brother? Do I make you sad?"

"Yes," Hector said in a small voice.

"But I said it again, Hector. I asked you, 'Do you deny that you are vulnerable in the presence of beautiful things?'"

"What did I say?" Hector asked, looking down at his feet.

"You said nothing. You only looked at me, as if I was as beautiful as Troy is to you, and then walked away. But I could tell that you wanted to say something. You wished to compliment me."

Before Hector could fully open his mouth to speak, Paris hushed him with a finger on his lips. Then he pulled away, and said very plainly: "Dearest brother, I fear that you think wrongly of yourself, for any love you have in your heart. You do not know this, of course, but I know this about you. That as soon as you allow yourself to feel, you believe that you have grown weak. Does not your love for Troy make you stronger in battle? If you did not care, were unfeeling, you would fail. Hector fights for those he loves, as the Gods taught him to. Only the strongest men know this to be true and are willing to accept it."

"Paris… you know not what you ask of me. You speak to me of… love, but you do not know what that entails."

"I do, Hector. Please, tell me what it is you were going to say."

There was no feeling comparable to the beating of his own heart in this instant. These nerves were not the nerves before battle. This feeling was dizzying to his whole body and state of mind. 

"Unless… you would like me to speak first," Paris said. Immediately Hector held up his hand. If Paris really did understand, Hector would not let his own fear stop him from being strong enough to allow Paris this.

"I do not know why the gods cursed me so," Hector began. He paused, only to allow Paris the time to deny this. When he remained silent, Hector shot a glance his way and shook his head in mild amusement. His nerves were fading, though only slightly. "I…" he gulped, "I was just thinking this morning. You are right, I was in despair. Because I am in love with a man, and a man who is no less than you, standing before me now, Paris. I was in tears because--" he grasped one of Paris's now limp hands, brought it up to his mouth, and gently kissed it, "--because you were sitting beside me, flawless as ever--" alternately he brought the other hand up to his lips, and kissed that one as well, "--and how could I not fall in love…" Hector closed his eyes tightly. "Paris, how could I not fall in love with you?" he finished quietly, in no more than a breath.

That was what Paris had asked for. And yet, now he was staring at Hector, frozen. His hands were sweating, his cheeks were flush, and his eyes were wide and disbelieving. Seeing this, Hector quickly released his brother's hands, and backed away, fearful of the response he'd receive.

"I will go," he said, and made to walk away again. "Forgive me."

"Wait!" Paris said. "You did not misunderstand me, but hearing you tell me was much different than imagining it to be true. I am only… stunned is all."

Hector placed a hand under Paris's chin and directed his lowered eyes up toward his own face. "Will you tell me now? I will be trapped in constant fear until you do."

"Tell you?" Paris asked.

"Please."

Paris was still, clearly holding his breath, subconsciously mirroring Hector, as he said to his own amazement, "I am in love with you, Hector." As if a great weight had been lifted from both their shoulders, they seemed to stand taller than before.

"Then let me stun you once more," and before Paris could make any reply, Hector's lips were on his, his body moving toward his brother's body imperceptibly. Indeed, Paris was stunned, for it took him a moment before he leaned in himself to the kiss, and he let his hands roam through Hector's loose curls. Hector had never desired the taste of someone's mouth on his own so greatly, and he deepened his hold around Paris's waist to therefore deepen their kiss. He could not help but groan as he did so.

When finally they parted, Hector's lips were beyond wet from the way Paris had used his tongue. His own tongue was left with the taste of his brother's mouth on his. And suddenly, he smiled out of joy.

"Hector?" Paris said, surprised, smiling himself, and even giggling.

"I know what you're thinking," Hector began, beautiful smile-lines starting to crinkle around his eyes. "But tomorrow, I assure you, your Prince Hector will no longer be pleased with himself. Right now I am in ecstasy. The happiness is greater than the pain. Paris, you must help me keep it that way."

"But... Hector, you are serious? You wish to love me?"

The eldest prince smiled down at his younger brother fondly. "For over 30 years have I lived without you. Without you fully. If I cannot now do it for myself, I will do it for you. You were right, that to deny love is weaker than to accept it. Paris, you are my love. Until I wed, and even after, you always will be."


End file.
